


safe from the storm

by clayisforgirls



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4357064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clayisforgirls/pseuds/clayisforgirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"he wants the comfort more than anything, needs someone to cling to"</p><p>When Andy played Marat in Thailand, he looked terrified every time there was thunder. Definitely inspired by that. Originally written in April 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	safe from the storm

He jumps as there's another clap of thunder, curls further into the baby blue blanket he's wrapped in, though it's not doing anything to calm his nerves and he really wishes that one of his lovers was home. Preferably Mardy, because he knows what Andy needs, had sat with him through more storms than he'd like to count in Florida. But Marat would do too, the big Russian with arms that Andy can crawl into and feel safe.

"Stupid fucking storm," he mutters as the thunder crashes again, seemingly right above the house. And he hates storms. His one more-than-irrational fear and even he'll admit that. Hates his weaknesses but this one he can't hide from the people he loves, it's too obvious, too apparent every time there's even a hint of a storm in the air. Mostly because he wants the comfort more than anything, needs someone to cling too.

He'd hated it when he was in Thailand, could hear the storm as he played Marat and there had been points in the match where he'd wanted to curl up until it was over. With who, he hadn't known, because he'd been there almost alone. It had led to a sleepless night, storm not letting him sleep until he was too bone weary to consider doing anything else, tossing and turning and hearing the thunder in his dreams.

At least this time he knows that the two people he needs right now should be home soon, Mardy grocery shopping, Marat having gone for a meeting in LA with some sponsor last night, should have been home an hour ago but the storm has been going for longer than that and he knows the flight is probably delayed.

It doesn't stop him worrying about the pair though. Nothing really does, he's loved Mardy forever, always worried about him even when they were just friends but Marat… he'd never expected it to work, he'd only said yes because Mardy had pleaded but he does love the Russian. No matter how infuriating he can be; they've spent half their time together arguing and the other half making up.

Mardy's always the peacemaker between them - withholding sex usually gets them to make up - but there are other ways too. Sometimes they manage without his help but it's rare, both too stubborn to back down over their opinions, no matter how inconsequential they might be.

But right now, he'd kill for someone to walk through his front door, no matter who it was.

Well - he amends - perhaps not Ljubicic or Roger, wouldn't want him to find out about this, he'd probably find a way to use it to help win their matches. Not that he needs the help, but it would definitely make it a lot easier.

Luck is apparently not on his side though, the next clap of thunder is followed by a bolt of lightning that lights up the whole room from around the half shut curtains, and he whimpers, pulling the soft blanket further around him, curling into it like he would if it was Mardy. Though it's nowhere near as comforting, Mardy always a solid weight by his side or against him, arms around him, face in his neck and Mardy murmuring to him about nothing and everything.

Their first kiss had even been during a storm, one much worse than this one but he hates them all the same. Mardy had run out of ways to distract him, and seeing him panicked had kissed him, ever so gently and Andy had frozen, not quite believing it. And then he'd felt Mardy trembling and realised how scared he was of his reaction, so he'd kissed back, hands playing with short blonde hair and when they'd stopped, the storm had been over. And then he'd kissed Mardy again, so gently, realising how swollen his lips were, and it had been like it ever since.

Right now, he misses Mardy more than ever and not for the first time he curses how far he lives outside Austin, because if they were back in Florida he'd be home by now. And probably wouldn't be having this storm either. Though, there are much worse ones in Florida and he counts himself lucky that a major hurricane never hit when he was there, he wouldn't have even known what to do, probably would have gotten halfway across the country before he'd stopped running.

The thunderstorm makes him jump again, and he's surprised when he hears the door open moments later and a familiar curly haired Russian pokes his head around it. And god, Andy's glad to see someone. It's not Mardy but Marat will do right now, because more often that not, he's the perfect distraction, either with arguments or with sex, and sometimes both.

"Andy, are you cold or something?" Marat asks, and it's then he realises how stupid he must look, blanket pulled around him so only his head is visible, curled into a corner of the couch and he shakes his head.

"Don't like the storm," he murmurs, so quietly he isn't sure Marat hears him.

"Is little Andy afraid of the scary storm?" Marat teases, but Andy's not in the mood for it now, and he sees Marat flinch at the glare he gets. Really, he should have known Marat would react like this, and he knows it's harmless and he doesn't mean it but he doesn't want that right now, knows he would snap at Marat given half the chance and then he'd be back to square one again.

Because sometimes they're too similar for their own good, and Mardy would tell him they're too similar for his sanity too.

"Sorry," the apology comes, quietly, but he takes it, knows how tough it is for the Russian to apologise, and within seconds of him smiling he's in Marat's arms, curled together underneath the blanket, and realises how much he's shaking, crawling into his lap and accepting the warm hug from his lover. Affection like this from Marat is rare but right now it's what he needs, what he's been craving for the last who knows how long and he shuts his eyes, still trembling a little, burying his face in Marat's neck.

"So, who won the baseball match I left you watching yesterday?" he asks, running his fingers through short hair and Andy leans into the touch, relaxing just a little bit more.

"Mets. Though, it's not a match, Marat, it's a game. It's not tennis or some other European sport."

"It's just a dumb, American one," he teases, and this time it gets a smile from Andy, knowing that Marat only half means it. He's never been able to get Marat to sit through any American sport with him, though not for lack of trying, and this is the perfect opportunity to explain the brilliance of baseball or football, because Marat won't be able to run.

"You're half right," he murmurs, "it is American, but it's not dumb. Baseball's a brilliant game, you'll have to come with me or Mardy to a game one day, just being there… it's fantastic. The crowd and the atmosphere and the endless supply of good food, and everyone gets so involved, it's so different to a tennis match. In so many ways, so much better. And maybe nothing happens but… I don't know. You'll just have to come."

"Andy, I'm not coming with you to some stupid baseball match."

"Game," he corrects automatically, "it's a baseball game. Remember that for when we take you. And then we can explain how everything works to you, because it's not as simple as it looks."

"Some guy hits or misses a ball, what's so hard about that?"

"I'd explain now, but I'm sure you're not interested."

"You can, if you want," the reply comes, and it gets a raised eyebrow from Andy though he doesn't comment, because he's sure that Marat doesn't really care about baseball, is sure he never will even if they do drag him to a game because he really does hate all American sports - except, for some reason, basketball - but Andy's going to take his chances this time. Marat may only be doing it to distract him - and so far, it's working, he reluctantly admits - but it might be his only chance, and with him and Mardy around, Marat really does need to know the basis for everything they watch.

Mid explanation about innings and batters Marat kisses him, a light brush at first, and Andy's fingers twine in curls as he pulls Marat closer, somehow finding himself pushed back against the leather, under Marat, no longer in his lap. He wants - needs - more than the teasing kisses he's being given by the Russian, and whimpers as Marat's hand brushes over denim, rubbing gently and that's it, he's done with soft and slow but this time, Marat isn't, and it's unlike him. Marat's always easy, always willing to forgo the kissing and the preparation and get to the actual fucking and it's what Andy needs sometimes, loves Mardy but there are times that he needs a quick fuck, to be pushed against a wall and be fucked and Marat gives him that. When they're not arguing, at least.

And he's really glad that Mardy had asked him, blushing, about a threesome with Marat, had considered saying no because it was Marat until he'd seen the willingness to plead in Mardy's eyes, and that inability to say no to Mardy had popped up again and Marat had been part of them pretty much ever since, they'd fitted in a way that they shouldn't. They may argue, get jealous of the other but really, he does love Marat. He's never told him, but he does, and he's sure the Russian knows, if only from every touch, every smile, every quick fuck in the showers when no one is around.

Which is why he doesn't understand why Marat is going so painfully slow, each touch teasing and gentle and he craves more, wriggling under Marat, trying to get the friction he needs before Marat stops, stilling him and he whimpers.

"Stop being so impatient," he says softly, and Andy can feel the pout because he wants Marat now, not in however many minutes when he's on the verge of begging, and Marat just kisses him again, nudging his mouth open with his tongue and Andy's only too happy to oblige. Marat's a warm weight above him and he's close to comfortable at last, the tongue in his mouth a nice distraction, the erection pressing into his hip through jeans a better one. He trails his hand across bare skin on Marat's stomach, getting an almost giggle from the Russian because he knows he's ticklish, until he presses lightly against the denim covered bulge, getting a half gasp and he smirks.

Shirts come off, bare skin sticking together in the warmth of Andy's house because he hates it too cold, hand tangled in dark curls at the nape of Marat's neck, pulling him slower until Marat's stopped teasing, grinding against Andy as he sucks on his tongue and he's whimpering again, hands gripping Marat's arms so tightly he's sure there will be bruises.

Legs wrap around Marat's waist, clinging to him as though his life depends on it and right now it seems to, because every moment they're not having sex it means he's being tortured, one step closer to insanity but at least now he knows that Marat's almost there too. For precious moments they break apart, shedding their jeans and in Andy's case, boxers too. Blanket is long forgotten, pooled on the floor, Andy's back pressed against leather and sitting in Marat's lap, and before he even asks the lube's in Marat's hand, already uncapped.

He still doesn't know how Marat does it, because he always seems to have lube, even when they're in the most unlikely of places he somehow produces a tube. Though he's not complaining, in fact, it's a skill that he has.

A finger pushes into him slowly and he has to tell himself to relax because he's not used to this; even though Marat fucks him sometimes it's not that often, preferring to be the one doing the fucking. Now is different though, he craves the comfort, the protective arms around him, to be looked after for once. He knows Marat's capable of it, trusts him, has seen him fuck Mardy like this enough to know that the Russian knows how to be gentle.

As Marat adds a second finger carefully he moans, burying his face in Marat's neck and biting down gently, not on purpose, but the Russian muffles a whimper and Andy kisses him softly before he traces his tongue around the teeth marks in Marat's neck, not hard enough to break skin but he feels Marat shudder as his tongue rubs gently over the indentations that he'll probably have tomorrow.

"Stop that or you're going to just get fucked," he manages, trying to calm himself down but it doesn't work, Andy rocking against him, cocks rubbing against each other with every movement and Andy smirks, knowing that even though Marat is going to fuck him, he's still the one with the control. Probably always will be, Mardy lets him have it, had never tried to argue, but he'd had to work with Marat, they'd argued and then Andy had fucked him so hard he'd seen stars, and by the time Mardy had gotten home Marat had stopped trying to get Andy to let him fuck him. It wasn't going to happen unless it was Andy's idea, and he knew it.

Though, as Marat adds a third finger he thinks that maybe he should do this more often, let Marat have that tiny bit of control, because it feel so very good, gasps and whimpers escaping as Marat slides his fingers out slowly and thrusts them back in again. He kisses Marat, mostly to drown out his own moans, but he's shaking from arousal already, never knew that just Marat and fingers could do so much to him.

There's a protest from him as Marat pulls his fingers out, cut off with another kiss, tongue running along his lower lip and he shuts his eyes, enjoying it until Marat's hand brushes his dick and he gasps again, eyes wide, and watches as Marat covers his own with lube.

He lifts his hips, using the couch and Marat as leverage, and sinks slowly onto Marat's cock, eyes fluttering shut as he does so, toes curling, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, pulling Marat into a kiss. Except it's hard like this, almost uncomfortable and he's glad Marat realises it too; they kiss before somehow they manage to shift without breaking apart so Marat's in the corner of the couch, Andy still on his lap, still perfectly entwined.

Kisses are punctuated by whimpers from them both, Andy rocking slowly on Marat's cock, but it's not up to him, it's Marat who's controlling him for once; skin sticks together and to the leather couch with sweat but it just makes it better, Andy leaning against Marat, kissing him lazily, tongues tangling and he's just happy to let it happen, no battle for dominance and Mardy would be proud of them if he was here. He's certain the American won't believe him even if they told him, because he doesn't believe that they can do anything without arguing. It's not true, not quite, but there are moments when it seems it.

Sex without the arguments isn't like them though, mostly when they're by themselves they have make up sex, often leading to more arguing and though that's fun, he likes this too, content to be with Marat for no other reason than pleasure. Well, and the distraction from the storm. Which has worked, because Marat's teased him so much that he hasn't even thought about it since they were both half naked.

"You're going to kill me," he gets out between half moans, and there's a moment when Marat smirks that he considers saying something but pushes the urge down, just pressing their lips together again, so softly he's not even sure it can be called a real kiss. And this isn't like them either, it's not always rough between them but it's never this loving, this gentle, even though they're both perfectly capable of it with Mardy, the blonde the main object of both their affections; he has them wrapped around his finger and they both know it, but neither really cares. Because it's Mardy, and he's loved Mardy for so long he doesn't think twice about doing anything he asks. About giving him everything he wants and needs.

Though, if Mardy had told him that Marat had propositioned him, had a fascination with his boyfriend before Andy had asked him if he'd be willing to have a threesome with them, he would never have agreed to it. Ever, because he wouldn't have wanted to share Mardy for more than a night. He's sure that comes from being the baby of the family, getting everything he's always wanted and never having to share and there are times when he wants Mardy all to himself. Still gets them when Marat's off in Europe, but it's not the same.

And he loves Marat, but he's grown to love him because of their situation. Probably would never have gone for him before their arrangement even if he hadn't already had a boyfriend, the Russian too volatile for him to handle alone.

Maybe if it had been a one night stand first, because the sex really is that good, enough to change his mind on almost anything, fast or slow, it doesn't matter, but other than that, the Russian was definitely not boyfriend material for him.

It's Marat's hand which pulls him out of his thoughts, wrapping it around his cock and then it's all over; face buries in Marat's neck again as he comes, slumped against the Russian and then Marat comes with a groan and a final thrust and they kiss lazily, Marat yawning as they part, fingers dancing over smooth skin. Marat pulls him closer, arm tightening around his waist as he almost collapses against him, lowering them so they're lying on the couch side by side, head resting on his shoulder.

"Sleep," Andy murmurs, and Marat nods, half gone already.

Eventually he drifts off too, for how long he doesn't know, until he feels a callused hand cupping his face, running through his hair and he knows it's Mardy, waking slowly, soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Has anyone ever told you that you two are adorable together?" a familiar voice whispers in his ear, and he opens his eyes, smile widening when he sees Mardy. "When you're not arguing, that is."

"'m always cute," he replies, sleepily and Mardy grins, shedding his shirt and kissing Andy as he sits on the edge of the couch, hand tangled in his hair, back to the length he loves so he can play with it, braiding it while Mardy sits on the floor beneath his legs as they watch movies. He's always done it, and Mardy's never said to stop.

"You are, babe." He pauses for a moment, hooking a leg over Andy and Marat and snuggling in between the back of the couch and Andy, more on top of Andy than anything else but he doesn't care. He realises he does need a bigger couch, although being pressed between Marat and Mardy more than makes up for it. "You cope okay?"

"After Marat got home, yeah," and he smiles as he says it, because he can hear the worry in Mardy's voice, loves the fact his boyfriend is worried over him over such a stupid fear. "He's pretty good. Not quite as good as you, but…"

"Sorry I wasn't here."

"No guilt, Mar. Otherwise we wouldn't have food."

"Not with the way you eat it, no," he teases and Andy laughs, making a little more room for Mardy as he snuggles closer to Marat and then pushes back against his best friend, familiar warmth against his back, arm looped around his waist, and even though usually he'd tell Mardy to take his jeans off too, because the buttons are digging into his back, he doesn't want Mardy to move.

He doesn't bother to reply, just murmurs something very non-committal, and shuts his eyes again. Because even with the last remnants of the storm in the air, for the first time he feels totally safe from it.

And that's definitely not a bad thing.


End file.
